


Great Minds Think Alike (And Sometimes So Do Ours)

by PuppiesRainbowsSadism



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Philosophy, Professor!Castiel, Professor!Sam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppiesRainbowsSadism/pseuds/PuppiesRainbowsSadism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Cas are both philosophy professors, although they couldn't be more different. Castiel has a reputation for being cynical, strict, even cruel at times, giving his students existential crises and no time to sort them out between deadlines. Sam is known as the laid back professor who gives extra credit, doesn't take attendance, will let you get away with just about anything if you have a good excuse, rounds on the eight . . .</p><p>By all means, Professors Novak and Winchester should hate each other. But they're actually friends and enjoy discussing their differing opinions over lunch and between classes.</p><p>This is their (slow-burning) love story, not necessarily in chronological order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One Who Walked Away From Omelas (and the one who stayed forever)

**Author's Note:**

> A completely self-indulgent post turned out to be kind of popular, and an anon requested I post the continuation here. I love this verse, but will probably rarely update, just because I have so much else going on.
> 
> Each segment planned so far is centred around a philosophical question and Sam and Cas's responses to the question. I'll summarise the question in each segment, but link to the full thing so you can read for yourself, because I really do recommend most typical philosophical readings. If it's not required, take Intro to Phil sometime anyway. It's lots of fun.
> 
> Anyway, this first part involves The Ones That Walked Away From Omelas, which can be read in its entirety here: http://www.kareyperkins.com/classes/445/omelas.pdf  
> It's very short and highly recommended.

“So,” Sam starts, leaning across the table and smirking at Castiel. “Omelas.”

Castiel laughs and takes a sip of his drink – the rumours about him are mostly true; it’s a tall glass of whiskey. The bar they’re at is pretty classy, but even this isn’t enough to get him drunk.

Not that Castiel isn’t fully aware of the perks of getting drunk on a date. No matter how hesitant they are to say it, this is a date, even if they aren’t actually dating.

“You want to talk about Omelas,” Castiel says, nothing but amusement in his tone. “That is a problem for which there is no answer.”

“A problem I would have thought you’d present to your students,” Sam challenges playfully.

“I will. After the first deadline passes. So, talk to me about Omelas.”

Sam describes the scenario, even though he knows he doesn’t need to. In summary:  Omelas is a town, described loosely as a simple utopia. Their people are endlessly happy, there is no war or hunger, everyone is equally rich and prosperous. Everything is absolutely perfect. There is only one exception:  Deep in a cupboard in a basement where there are no windows and only one door, there is a dirty, malnourished child. It remembers sunlight, his mother’s voice, but the only human interaction it gets now are when its food and water bowls are filled. Every citizen of Omelas knows this child is there. Some have visited it, but the rules are simple – the child must not know any kindness in its life. Some go as far as to torture the poor thing for good measure. But they all know it lives in the basement, in the cupboard, and begs every day to be let out. The problem is this:  The fate of Omelas rests on this child’s torture. If kindness is shown to the child, if it is treated humanely or, God forbid, let out of its cupboard, Omelas will crumble and cease to be the prosperous utopia it is.

“So,” Sam concludes, taking a sip of his own rum and coke, “You know your options.”

“Yes,” Castiel agrees. “Bring the child out and let Omelas crumble, let the child suffer and continue living in prosperity, or leave Omelas forever.”

“Yes. So, which would you choose?”

Castiel leans across the table as well, so he and Sam are face to face. “Well, there are several things to consider. If you let the child out and Omelas falls, it will be in no better condition than it was before. Or, even worse, it won’t know how to survive on its own and die of starvation or exposure or something.”

“But should the happiness of many rely on the suffering of one?”

“Should the happiness of one lead to the suffering of many?”

Sam smirks and leans back on his side of the booth. Their faces are not so close now, and Castiel regrets it a little. “You’re stalling,” Sam accuses.

“No, I know my answer. I’m thinking aloud. When the story says that Omelas will collapse, it does not say it will become a desolate wasteland or cease to bear any prosperity. For all we know, releasing the child would simply demote Omelas from a utopia to just a normal town.”

“So what’s your answer?”

Castiel leans back as well. His glass of whiskey is half empty, but he takes a long drag from it anyway.  _Now_  he is stalling.

“I have a certain reputation,” he sighs, contemplating the ring of condensation his glass left on the table, “for being cynical and, at times, cruel. I am not cruel. Cynical, maybe. When faced with an impossible situation, my first course of action may be to just … let it happen. No matter how horrible. But,” he continues, a little less morosely, “I am a firm believer that no soul, no creature on this Earth, was created simply to be tortured, or to die. There may be a lesson to learn from the tortured child in the cupboard in the basement, but the lesson cannot possibly be important enough to warrant such maltreatment of another life.” He glances up then, and notices that Sam is hanging onto his every word. “My decision is … slightly selfish,” he admits. “I go where I want to go and do what I want to do.”

Sam scoffs. “So why the hell are you  _here_?”

Castiel smiles, but doesn’t answer. A question for another time. “What I want to do is help people. So I would free the child and observe what effect it has on Omelas. If the child still has a mother willing to care for it – them – I will reunite them, but otherwise, I’ll take the child under my own wing. And whether Omelas completely crumbles at my feet or becomes a town just like any other, I will help the citizens adjust to their new lifestyle. This is assuming, of course, that I am the same person in this narrative as I am now. As a citizen born and raised in Omelas, I don’t know what I’d do.”

Sam nods, drinking in Castiel’s words, then drinking down his rum and coke until it’s gone. He’s silent for a moment, then he smiles a little to himself and says, “That’s not what I thought you’d say.”

“Oh?” Castiel is curious. Sam doesn’t really  _do_  character analysis, or he tries not to, anyway. But it seems as if Sam’s not only been reading Castiel, but he’s been reading him  _wrong_.

“I thought you’d choose none of the above,” Sam explains. “I thought you’d free the child, and then immediately leave forever, wanting nothing at all to do with a city that takes its peace and prosperity from the torture of another.”

“An option not mentioned.”

“Right. That’s what I’d choose.”

Castiel can tell that the alcohol is starting to hit Sam in the way his motions become more fluid, his words sounding a bit more dire. “You’d choose to free the child and leave?”

“No! No, I’d choose option E.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow and goes to take a drink, only to realise his glass is empty. It’s probably for the best. This is turning out to be a very revealing conversation. “What is option E?”

“Another one not listed. Let’s say that, even as born and raised Omelas-ians, we have the same basic personalities. In the story, citizens are told about the child when they’re about ten, right? Before they’re teenagers, at least.”

“Right,” Castiel encourages.

“Well, it also says that some children weep and rage, but eventually get over it. Or, option C, leave forever. I believe the author of the story mentions the age the citizens find out because children can sympathise with other children more than anyone or anything else. That’s why they rage and scream.”

“I agree.”

“So, assuming we would both have the same basic personalities, I’d pick option E. I would free the child and take its place, so everyone in Omelas, even the child, can live happily.”

That … is not the direction Castiel thought Sam was going to go. Sam’s words hit him hard, and if he weren’t already leaning back in his seat, he would have fallen back from the impact.

“You’d subject yourself to a lifetime of suffering? That’s entirely not necessary.”

Sam shrugs. “If anyone should suffer, why shouldn’t it be me? I’ve always been sacrificial. In school, if I could get a bully to focus on me instead of some other kid, I would. So while I agree that no life is created for death or suffering, and the prosperity of many should not rely on the mistreatment of one … if it has to be, I’d rather it be me than someone else.”

Sam isn’t looking at Castiel. Rather, he’s smiling wryly at his empty glass, fingering the rim gently and nodding ever so slightly to himself. He seems very content with his decision, and Castiel has no doubt that, if Omelas were real, Sam really would trade places with the child.

Until this point, Professor Winchester was the man who Castiel conversed with in the hallways on the way to class, or in their office, the man who held very different opinions than Castiel, but who always had a good argument for them, and Castiel greatly enjoyed his company. That’s why there were on this non-date date.

But now, Castiel feels his brow furrow and his eyes sting a little. He’s not conversing with Professor Winchester right now. He’s conversing with Sam, and it occurs to Castiel that, in order to truly understand Sam, there are many different layers he has to peel back. This one, the deep, self-sacrificial one that Castiel suspected rarely surfaced, at least not verbally, is apparently enticed out of his carefully constructed tweed shell with a little alcohol.

Castiel truly wants to know everything he can about Sam. He also sincerely hopes getting him drunk is not a requisite.


	2. If Someone Has to Suffer (it should never be you)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel walks Sam home after the Omelas conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon wanted to know what happens after the Omelas conversation, and as it turns out, it was a pretty good segue into what I want to get into next. So thank you, anon, because segues are hard.

“Allow me to walk you home,” Castiel offers once the bill has been paid and Sam stands to grab his tweed jacket. They’d come straight from campus to here, and Sam looked much more dressed for a night out than Castiel did in his straight-legged drawstring pants and tee shirt worn so thin it was almost see-through. But that didn’t much matter. Castiel never cared for appearances before he saw Sam Winchester with flushed cheeks and two of his top buttons undone.

“I’m not drunk, Cas,” Sam smiles. “It takes more than two drinks to bring me down.”

“I’m not offering because I think you’re drunk.” That, at least, was true. But he didn’t elaborate, letting Sam draw his own conclusions.

“You live closer,” Sam argued.

“And in the opposite direction,” Castiel countered. “Please. It will give me peace of mind to know you’ve gotten home safely. And I’m not quite ready to stop our conversation.”

“About Omelas?”

Castiel hummed noncommittally, offering Sam a hand that he resolutely ignored until he tripped over a step that he forgot was there. Then Castiel grabbed Sam’s elbow to steady him, ignoring the grumblings from his fellow professor. Sam may not be drunk, but he was no more sober.

Castiel led them out of the crowded bar and into the cool night. The chilled wind was refreshing on Castiel’s face, and he realised his cheeks must be flushed as well. Still, he wasn’t feeling the effects of the alcohol, and he thanked his Slavic heritage for that much, at least.

“Okay,” Castiel started, as they turned to the right, away from campus, and started walking. “So you agree that no living being is placed on this Earth to die or to suffer. Yet you say, ‘If someone has to suffer, why shouldn’t it be me?’”

Sam nodded and hummed his agreement.

“If someone has to suffer,” Castiel continued, “Why should it be you? And why shouldn’t it be anyone else. There are other sacrificial people in the world, I’m sure. Why are you the one that has to suffer?”

Sam considered the question in silence. He seemed steady on his feet, so Castiel released his elbow, but stayed close by, just in case.

“No one is placed on this Earth to suffer,” Sam repeated softly. “But in Omelas, suffering is required for the prosperity of others. In Omelas, my purpose in life wouldn’t be to suffer. It would be to relieve the child of his burden, to provide it with happiness while also assuring that no one else suffers for it. Think about it:  If I take the child’s place, a family will be reformed. That child will be cleaned and fed, and it’ll know happiness for the rest of its life. One more block, just on the right here,” Sam interjected at a crosswalk.

“So, by your logic, you’re not placed on this Earth to suffer. You’re placed on this Earth to deliver happiness to a single child and its family.”

Sam nodded, stopping at the stairs to his apartment complex and turning to face Castiel. “If someone should suffer, why shouldn’t it be me?” he repeated again, almost in a whisper. Castiel had a feeling Sam told himself that a lot, like a motto or a mantra. “Goodnight, Cas. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“As usual,” Castiel smiled as Sam turned his back and entered the building. Castiel waited until Sam was out of sight to turn back and walk twice the distance to his own house.

_If someone should suffer, why shouldn’t it be me?_

Castiel could think of a multitude of reasons, and he only hoped Sam remembered their conversation in the morning because Castiel was already considering his response.


	3. Will They Benefit (and did you)?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plato's "The allegory of the Cave": https://web.stanford.edu/class/ihum40/cave.pdf

Castiel sometimes showed up to Sam’s office hours. He tried not to, but Sam’s were so flexible and long compared to his own that it was difficult not to. Of course, if Sam was busy helping a student, Castiel wouldn’t interrupt. He may be strict, but he knew one-on-one help was important, especially for those few students that sought it.

Today, though, Sam’s office was empty except for himself and one of his TAs. Castiel knocked on the doorframe but strode right in. He knew he was welcome here, and the smile on Sam’s face when they saw each other only confirmed it.

Sam finished sorting through his generous pile of papers before excusing his TA. She objected, of course, but didn’t put up too much of a fight. After all, it was getting late.

“I’d like to discuss something with you,” Castiel said, no greetings or preambles.

“Of course. What is it?”

He took a seat across from Sam, the desk between them. “The Allegory of the Cave.”

That punched a laugh out of Sam, not altogether a rare sound, but one Cas liked hearing anyway. “First Omelas, now this? You know I’m capable of more than just classic thought experiments, right?”

Castiel smirked but didn’t answer. Altogether, he was mostly glad Sam didn’t seem to regret their Omelas conversation. He’d said some very revealing things, and Castiel hoped he’d say more today.

“I know, but I’m curious. You know how it goes, I assume?”

“Of course. People are chained to a wall in a cave and forced to look ahead at shadow puppets playing on the wall.”

Castiel circled his hand, indicating that this summary was unnecessary. “You introduce them to each other, then the puppet masters, then the outside world. Yes, you know it. Do the prisoners benefit from being shown more about the world?”

Sam was silent for a moment before jumping in surprise. “Oh! That’s your question? Well, I have to assume yes, that these people will benefit.”

“Even though they’ve known nothing but these shadow puppets their whole lives? Don’t you think that would mess them up a little?”

Sam bit his thumbnail and considered his answer. Castiel leaned forward in his chair eagerly.

“I suppose,” he started slowly, choosing his words, “that it would be very similar to people who are suddenly placed in a new, relatively permanent life situation. Not necessarily a better one, but a different one.”

Castiel leaned back again, but his interest was piqued. “Can you explain what you mean?”

“Using examples from the text? Using no more than two pages?” Sam smirked, but he wasn’t meeting Castiel’s eyes. “Imagine a person living in a third world country, with no knowledge of any kind of sanitation. Then WHO or the Peace Corps or someone teaches that person about germs and diseases, provides them with all these sanitary . . . things. Toilets, soap, you know. And teaches them how to use it. Life is different in a permanent way. Their world has been expanded from what they previously knew in a beneficial way.”

“I’m not sure I agree.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, so let’s imagine . . . let’s imagine a small family living out of their car. Actually, just one of the family members. They live in a car, don’t really have any family except each other, eat -- I don’t know -- gas station junk food. Commit crime for money. The kid, or kids, grow up that way, their entire lives. Suddenly, that kid goes to college, or joins the military, or wins the lottery. Something happens that drastically improves their quality of life.”

“I know where you’re going with this,” Castiel interrupted, “and I think your sanitation example was better. In the case of the poor child, they already had some inkling of what a better life was like. Even if they never went to school or worked, they had to have seen it at some point.”

Sam nodded again. “Okay. I still believe that the prisoners in the cave are better off learning about the world, even if they ultimately return to the cave.”

Castiel wasn’t so quick to agree. What was the point of knowing the truth if you never accepted it?

But he wouldn’t speak his part. He wasn’t done with Sam yet. “Do you feel the same way about Nagel’s spider in the urinal?”

Sam smiled, but it looked tight, and when he stood, he already had his bag around one shoulder. Castiel checked his watch discreetly. It wasn’t quite yet time for office hours to be over, and Sam never closed his door early. This conversation must have made him extremely uncomfortable.

“One question at a time,” Sam scolded playfully. His eyes were harder than his tone when he left.

Castiel wondered about Sam’s examples, if either of them were from personal experience. Logically, they probably were. Castiel had no doubt that Sam was the kind of person to volunteer with the Peace Corps, but it was the other example that puzzled him. Statistically speaking, if Sam had really been raised out of a car, he wouldn’t be here now, so who did he know that had been?


End file.
